


Blessings Without Number

by HotWaterOnWool



Series: Blessings Without Number [1]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, sweet sweet domesticity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7281181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotWaterOnWool/pseuds/HotWaterOnWool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life and times of the Hamilton family.<br/>--<br/>a series of short fics based off <a href="http://hamiltonprompts.tumblr.com/post/141495882581/please-please-please-something-with-the-hamiltons">this prompt</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a series of small fics

i.  
“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf..” Philip began loudly, tucking his hair behind his ears as he put his fingers to the ivory keys to assist Angelica in playing the piano. At only ten years old Philip wasn’t much older than his sister, but with two extra years of practice on the instrument he felt comfortable enough to try out his big brother skills and attempt to help.

On the second run through of the short verse Angelica tried to follow along on her end of the piano, only a count behind. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf..”

“Okay, good. Try again.” Philip said with a wide grin that showed off where he was missing a bottom incisor.

She took a deep breath. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept-”

“Sept, huit, neuf.” He completed for her with a melody of his own.

“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six-” They began together this time, Philip’s hands fallen into his lap so she could play on her own.

“Sept, huit, neuf.” Continued a voice that wasn’t there before, pointedly singing the correct line. Alexander ruffled Philip’s thick, unruly curls and nudged him aside, taking his place next to Angelica. “Don’t let your brother confuse you.” He reminded the girl as he looked to Philip. The boy had found his place leaned against the piano, chin resting in his hands. Alexander shook his head, clucking his tongue at him and smiling besides himself. “Continue, dear.”

“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six,” She stopped, fingers paused on the keys as she thought back to how she’d originally sang the phrase. “Sept, huit, neuf.”

“Again.” Alexander told her, voice soft. The two spent a while longer playing the same verse until he took over, beginning to play a soft song of his own. Angelica laid her head against her father’s arm, watching his fingers move.

Piano wasn’t her favorite hobby, but she saw her father and her brother play and decided she could make due.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> btw the title is based off of hamilton's closing that he used in a few letters to eliza.  
> "Blessings without number on you & my little ones."

ii.  
A cool morning in the spring found the Hamilton family in familiar places, Alexander and Eliza at the heads of the long table, four seats down one side and three down the other.

Alexander took a sip of coffee and read the newspaper in his other hand, parchment and a quill in an inkwell now moved toward the middle of the table as his attention focused on the words in front of him.

“Continue, boys.” Eliza said, not looking to either of the boys at her side. Her focus was currently on cutting the dense loaf of bread in front of her into thick slices. “Matthew, chapter five, verse five.”

“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” Philip continued where they’d left off, reading out of the bible in his hands.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.” Alexander jr. continued at the next verse, reading out of his own copy.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.”

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.”

“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

The two read back and forth until their mother raised a hand, shooing them into their seats with a smile. “Breakfast now. Thank you, boys.” Eliza smiled and stood, distributing the buttered bread to her children and her husband. 

As she passed Alexander she leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his temple before she made her way back to her own seat. “Alexander, put that away. It’s impolite at the breakfast table.”

At that it was closed and tucked away, Alexander grinning at her over the table. “Yes, Betsey. Of course.”


	3. Chapter 3

iii.  
Philip sat on his temporary bed, which had none of the comforts of home, bags packed on the floor beside his feet. He read over his father’s letter once more, though he’d burned the words into his mind previously and he was positive today was the day. His father had promised.

_‘...You remember that I engaged to send for you next Saturday and I will do it, unless you request me to put it off. For a promise must never be broken; and I never will make you one, which I will not fulfil as far as I am able. But it has occurred to me that the Christmas holidays are near at hand, and I suppose your school will then break up for some days and give you an opportunity of coming to stay with us for a longer time than if you should come on Saturday. Will it not be best for you, therefore, to put off your journey till the holidays? But determine as you like best and let me know what will be most pleasing to you. A good night to my darling son.'_

Reading it again, he nodded to himself. Philip had put off his visit as his father suggested proper, so he could spend more time at home with his parents and siblings. He had written Philip again and promised. Alexander had promised, and so it would be.

\--

In less than a day of traveling Philip was launching himself out of the carriage Alexander had sent for him, throwing himself into the arms of his mother and father. Eliza and Alexander both wrapped around him, but Eliza was first to speak.

“My dear son, you’re growing like a weed.” She laughed, kissing each of his cheeks. She took the smallest step back to look him over, heaving a sigh. It felt like years since she’d seen him, but it had only been a few months. Philip left at about the same height of his mother, but now had easily four or so inches on her.

Alexander pressed a kiss to the top of his head, ruffling his curls affectionately as he was known to do. “We’ve missed you. Soon you’ll be home for good, we promise.”

The three enjoyed their reunion for a few seconds more before James was pushing between them in excitement. “Philip! We hung a new swing from the tree by the pond!” He shouted, grabbing onto the arm of his oldest brother’s coat. “I fell out of it. Martha didn’t tell mother.” James said in a secretive voice with a big grin. Eliza glanced over at the girl with a brow raised, but didn’t mention it. No harm no foul, she decided.

“Then we go try the swing!” Philip said decidedly with a smile, holding his hand out to James who took it and dragged him off before he could say anything else about it.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour!” Eliza shouted after them as the rest of their siblings followed immediately, all of them screaming and shouting in excitement, asking Philip a million questions a minute. 

It was music to her ears, to have all her children back at home.

She leaned against Alexander, tipping their heads together as they watched them run down the length of their property until they were out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have a beta so


	4. Chapter 4

iv.  
It was the sixth morning of Philip’s seven day visit when he was awoken not by his mother’s gentle voice or his father throwing open the curtains, but by James and John jumping into his bed. Each boy pulled the covers a different way, only succeeding in shaking Philip around rather than actually forcing the blankets off of him.

“Christmas presents!”

“Santa came!”

“Santa isn’t real, John, papa bought all the gifts.”

“Santa isn’t real..?”

Philip forced himself up at that, giving James a pointed look as he pulled the younger boy into his lap. “Santa’s real. James is being silly. Did mom or pops even say it was time for gifts?”

James opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off before he could even begin. “Yes! Well, no.. She said when you woke up!” The boy grinned, looking down a bit. “But she told us not to wake you, since it’s the last day you can sleep in.” Of course, Philip thought as both of his brothers climbed off the bed.

“Well, I won’t tell her.” Philip said, noticing the boys perk up at that. “If you’ll give me a few minutes to dress and comb my hair at least.” He chuckled, swinging his feet over the edge of the mattress. An unintelligible yell was his only response.

Philip pulled on a new pair of slacks and a button up shirt, not bothering with his coat in the comfort of his own home. He brushed his hair up into a ponytail for once when he realized he didn’t have the energy this morning to deal with the mess that his locks became overnight.

He made his way down the stairs, listening to all of his siblings chattering loudly. When he finally saw them he felt his chest tighten for a few seconds, knowing he’d miss this while he was gone.

All six of his siblings sitting together on the floor beside the christmas tree, Eliza at the piano seat and Alexander on the couch closer to the tree so he could help the children if needed.

“Morning, everyone.” Philip said a bit sleepily, drawing attention to his arrival so they could begin.

Eliza, being the most reasonable one there, had Alexander hand out all the presents first before allowing anyone to open anything.

Each child got two gifts, one from Santa, one from their mother and father. A few leather-bound journals, brand new dolls, recreational books, sweets and chocolate, all simple yet heartfelt treasures.

“Breakfast will be ready soon.” Their father announced, allowing the youngest children to scatter with their new toys. Philip and Martha lingered behind.

“Don’t eat those sweets until after dinner!” Eliza shouted after them with a chuckle. They were probably half eaten by the time they got halfway down the hallway, she realized after she spoke.

“Be sure you’re packed, my boy, you won’t want to do it in the morning.” Alexander reminded him gently with a kiss to the top of his head. “Merry Christmas.”

When he and Eliza went into the kitchen, stealing kisses out of the sight of their children who would surely blanch at the sight, they heard a familiar melody on the piano.

_“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf..”_


	5. Chapter 5

x.  
Alexander was in Philadelphia when he received the letter detailing his son’s illness. Panicked as he was, and he most certainly was, he still remained calm enough to not alarm Eliza with the letter he wrote back detailing what he expected to be done.

 _‘...If my darling child is better when this reaches you persevere in the plan which has made him so.’_  
_‘Let the water be put in the kitchen over night & in the morning let the child be dipped in it head foremost wrapping up his head well & taking him again immediately out, put in flannel, & rubbed dry with towels…’_  
_‘Let him have two tea spoons full of brandy mixed with just enough water to prevent its taking away his breath…’_  
_‘Show this letter to your father & tell the Doctor of the advice I have given. But if the child be certainly worse do not easily be persuaded from the course I advise.’_

Work be damned, he would be at his child’s side. So Alexander packed up and began the full day’s trip from Pennsylvania to New York.

Usually the trip home was a relaxing day well spent, time alone where he could work in complete peace. In the carriage there was no Jefferson or Madison to breathe down his neck, no wife insisting repeatedly he step away for a while, no children hollering and pounding on the door, just himself and his quill.

This time however, it was spent worrying. He bit his nails down until they bled, brows knit tightly together until a migraine grew.

All he could think was that he would arrive home to tragedy. He would arrive home to one less child than he left with. His wonderful Philip, his pride and joy, would be gone.

When the carriage stopped in New York in front of his home Alexander braced himself for the worst. He left tossed his bag over his shoulder before running inside and up the stairs to Philip’s bedroom. When he was his boy sitting up in bed with a book, he released a heavy breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Philip, son.” He sighed in relief as he moved to his bedside. He brushed his sweat slicked hair back from his forehead, smiling down at him.

“Pa.” Philip smiled weakly, setting his book aside. “I thought you wouldn’t be back for another month.” He murmured. Philip was a clammy, pale mess, obviously exhausted and still so sick.

“I couldn’t stay in Philadelphia when I heard about your condition, of course.” Alexander finally smiled again, digging through his bag to pull out a bar of chocolate. “I brought this for you. Don’t let your mother know.”

Philip laughed, shoving the paper wrapped bar underneath his pillow as Eliza entered with a wet cloth. She clucked her tongue at Alexander, smiling affectionately at him as she laid the cloth across Philip’s forehead.

“You couldn’t come say hello to your wife, Alexander?”

“Hello, my dearest.” Alexander laughed softly, wrapping around her gently and giving her a quick kiss. He couldn’t bring himself tell her about his fear. It wasn’t an idea he wanted to put into Eliza’s head.

\--

The temperature outside was slowly cooling, a breeze flowing through the open windows of the house now as the sun completely disappeared on the horizon. Alexander was climbing into bed alone when Eliza entered, running a brush through her hair.

They sat in a comfortable silence, Alexander writing a few rapid sentences in a notebook until Eliza curled up beside him, plucking the notebook out of his hands and setting it aside.

“Not in bed, dear, please.” She said softly, fingers playing through his hair. “I’ve missed sleeping beside you. I have no one else to keep the bed warm.”

“You had better not.” He chuckled softly, kissing her gently as they relaxed in bed together for the first time in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> facts ;  
> idk where alexander was when the letter was actually written but he wasn't home  
> it wasnt actually written about philip being sick, it was about john  
> philip was actually sick once tho and the whole 'expecting to get home to him being dead' thing was true
> 
> also this was really rambly i just wanna get to ruining their lives which will be next thnx for bearing through it :-/


End file.
